


Lapped (On a Round Track, the End is the Beginning)

by persnickett



Category: Fast & Furious (2009), Fast and the Furious (2001), Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persnickett/pseuds/persnickett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian talks too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lapped (On a Round Track, the End is the Beginning)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever slash. Written for smallfandomfest and the prompt: new beginnings.

In the beginning, it was just different.

 

Brian was hard, angular – sharp everywhere Letty had been round and soft. But he was soft too, in ways Letty never was. On the inside.

 

Brian was a talker, for one thing. It was one of those things about him that made Dom completely nuts.

 

Not that Letty hadn’t known how to talk dirty. Downright nasty, even. When she’d wanted to get Dom into bed, she had a vocabulary that put the best porn to shame. Even in Spanish so rapid-fire he didn’t have the slightest clue what it meant, she could make Dom’s ears burn.

 

Brian didn’t talk dirty. Not really. He just _talked_. It was like he couldn’t stop it. Whenever they got close, if Brian didn’t have something in his mouth like Dom’s tongue, or his cock, then he was running it. Just running it with words, Dom’s name. Stupid, loco shit that didn’t make no kind of sense.

 

“like that, just like that, I need – yeah – got you, I got you…Dom…”

 

Sometimes Dom put Brian on his knees and got his dick in his mouth, just to shut him up. It got inside his head, made him unhinged, too urgent. Being with Brian was like that. Like racing on a wet track. Fast. Out of control.

 

Letty was strong, solid. She grounded Dom, kept him sane. Brian was as far from Letty as Dom could get.

 

Dom used to tell himself that’s what had him here, that’s all this was. Lompoc or none, he wasn’t into guys. This wild addiction he felt for Brian was just a way to forget, to shut out pain that was too much to feel all at once. And it was true, for a while.

 

Dom lost himself in Brian. He blocked out memories of silky brown hair and whispered Spanish with blazing blue eyes and golden-tanned skin. Shut out tenderness with hard muscle, and rough stubble. Hands that gripped hard enough to mark. That smile that could blind you, make you forget what you were doing for a minute, if you looked too long. The taut frame, and long legs.

 

That was another thing that made Dom crazy. Fucking Brian and those damn legs of his.

 

It never failed. Lanky little buster was like a damn octopus. Once he got those legs wrapped around you, it was like he grew extra limbs. He did it in a fight – probably some kind of academy training. Just when you had him on his back and you thought he was down, those ankles locked together and then his fists were everywhere; face, ribs, kidneys.

 

He used them to get his way, too, kicking Dom’s boots apart when he was sitting on the sofa so that Brian could move between them, steal the beer from his hand, and start making all manner of trouble. Dom lost count of the mornings – and the midnights for that matter – he’d woken to a lean thigh hooked over his own, hot and strong. Hands everywhere, and then you damn well went where Brian wanted you, even if you were bigger. Even if you didn’t mess around with dudes.

 

You didn’t say no to Brian, once he had a hold on you.

 

For a while, that’s what it was. Dom just never said no. Couldn’t. Brian pushed the screaming in Dom’s head to the back, shut it down to a dull roar. But now, with Brian laid out under him, blond, glistening and hard – and fucking _talking_ – he knew it was more.

 

He knew it when Brian worked in the garage, sprawled under the hood of his latest project, black engine grease streaking his jaw line like careless war paint. He knew it on the days Brian disappeared for hours, showing up around dinner time with a six pack and a pizza, his tan a shade deeper and the taste of salt water on his skin. He knew it now, as he drew a hand down the length of Brian’s torso, fingers tracing the dips and ridges of muscle while he watched the blue eyes darken in heady response.

 

He was done for.

 

Dear God, Dom was sure Brian would be the death of him one day. All bad grammar and bad fashion sense and too pretty for – literally – his own good. He bit his fingernails. He smoked too. Only when Dom wasn’t around, and he chewed gum afterward, but Dom could smell the telltale traces on his crappy clothes and in his spun-gold hair when they moved too far into each other’s personal space – like they inevitably would.

 

This was the overgrown kid in the cheap sneakers and cheesy haircut, who couldn’t eat bread crusts and went after his little sister. This was the guy who walked into Dom’s life and turned the whole carefully planned enchilada upside down. Repeatedly. And, lest Dom forget it, the key word there was GUY for Chrissakes. It was the way Brian made Dom lose all objectivity that freaked him out. The way he made none of it matter. Especially that last part.

 

In the beginning, all he could think about was Letty. Then he couldn’t think about her at all, not without a gut-wrenching stab of grief. And now, he could remember her. He could think of her sassy pout and sweet curves, and her dirty mouth, and he could smile.

 

Brian did that. Brian did that _for him_. Everything Brian did was for Dom – it had been that way right off of the line.

 

Dom didn’t get his reputation by being slow. It had already taken him long enough to round this curve, and if you’re headed into the final lap then you gotta wave the white flag. So Dom leaned down over Brian, where he was arched and moaning in his bed, and pressed his lips tightly against Brian’s ear before he started to whisper. These were three words he definitely did not want drowned out by O’Conner’s lust-drunken babbling.

 

It took Dom a second or so to realize what had changed. The sound he was hearing from Brian…was silence. Leave it to Dom to wait ‘til after it was too late to take shit back, and _then_ start feeling nervous. Figures.

 

Dom pulled back to survey the damage. He caught the look in Brian’s eyes, a fierce and wordless vow of loyalty, of devotion. A hand wrapped itself tight around the back of Dom’s skull and pulled their mouths together in a long, heated press of lips that was more of a promise than a kiss.

 

In the end, it wasn’t really all that different. Not so different at all.

 

_______________

Persnickett, June 2010


End file.
